"Under The Bare And Swinging Bulb"

She knew that I was upset.

It had been a long night, and the rain didn't do much to help the fact that dancing had made both of us tired and drenched with sweat. The summer heat had largely subsided by the time I heaved us both out of the club, my hand coiled around her wrist as she plodded behind me in those boots.

"Wait. C'mon, wait," she whimpered as we strode on, herself practically getting yanked, as I hustled her along the pavement. "Look, it's not my fault, ok?"

I remained silent. Turning the corner around the head shop where we first met, she spun as I tugged her arm.



I didn't know if she referred to being yanked, or was still just trying to get my attention. At that moment, I didn't really care. I knew her pain thresholds intimately, and I knew that a little wrist-tugging along the street wasn't something she couldn't handle. Besides, when she had returned to our table in the club earlier, I had seen her return my smirk just before I stood up to leave.

Quickly passing a pair of twinks, I could hear them cluck their over-opinionated tongues as burly white boy dragged wayward grrl past them. If they only knew.

I turned into the alley. She stopped short this time, her boots splashing in the mud beside a broken newspaper box. The rain was starting to fall harder. I turned, still gripping her wrist and holding her behind me at arm's length. She stool still, mouth slightly open in comprehension, blinking her eyes. She swallowed when my eyes met hers. She knew this alley too.

"Hey..."

"You'd rather stay in the rain?" I said, finally. She hesitated, swiping her wet hair back against her head as she looked at me. "Let's go."

She wasn't tugging away as firmly as she had been now. She understood. We made our way past the dumpster, past the pile of broken beer bottles, past the stack of junk lumber, until we reached the concrete steps of the Warren.

That's what she called it, as if it could ever hope to be a cozy home for bunnies. Hardly, unless they were bunnies sporting mohawks and hash pipes. I let go of her wrist. She stood still near the steps, patient as I reached into my pocket, demure, maybe hoping that I didn't have the key anymore. She bit her lower lip when she saw that I had. I winked over my shoulder as I opened the Master lock (I've long enjoyed that irony), and with a loud shove against the metal frame with my shoulder, thundered the door open. The rain was starting to come in sheets.

"Get in."

Maybe it was the rain, but she bolted past me.

The small room echoed as the door slammed behind me, and I could hear her boots grinding against the damp concrete inside. She was against the wall near the storage crates. In the dark, I strode to the center of the room and reached for where I knew the string would be dangling from the ceiling. Finding it, I tugged and the bleak, small space flooded with light from the single, bare bulb above my head.

The chair had toppled over. The rain hissed outside, and droplets tapped onto the concrete floor from a small leak in a corner. She pressed her hands against the wall she leaned upon, looking at me.

"You know this has to be done. You do understand that, right?"

She paused, and then nodded slowly.

"You remember this room, don't you?"

She nodded, readjusting her legs as she leaned. For a moment, her eye flinched toward the stack of crates near her. She saw my smile as I noticed it. I reached for the chair and stood it upright, directly under the swinging bulb. Shadows in the room danced to and fro. I sat down, motioning toward the crates with my hand.

"Hard to forget, huh?" I smiled. "The time you were bent over that crate. You got a rash along your forearms from holding on to the wood, remember?"

She nodded. "It hurt. My knees too."

"Yeah," I sneered, smiling. "Yeah, you got a rash on your forearms because you were bent over like the slut you are, being banged by the two of us. We took turns at you, remember? Remember how you cried out for more?"

There was a long pause before she looked to the floor and nodded, shifting her legs again.

"And then you pull this shit at the club tonight." My tone dropped an octave or two.

Startled, she pushed herself away from the wall toward me. "No, no... that was different... c'mon..."

"No, I don't think so," I said, shaking my head. "No, I don't think so, because you forgot the rules. You forgot the rules, and so, well, now you know what has to happen. So get over here. Now."

She swallowed again and slowly came forward. The bulb above me was steadying itself, but her shadow was still cast on the wall in waves, beckoning and withdrawing. But the time she stood next to me, the bulb had stopped.

She whimpered as she felt my hand caress up her leg, gripping the muscles in her thigh. She was cold, and I could smell stale beer, rain, and clove cigarettes on her jeans. I looked up, and for a fleeting moment, enjoyed the sight of her face blotting out the light, enshrouded in darkness, yet surrounded with a tungsten halo in that dark, dank place.

“Undo them,” I said firmly, looking into her face.

She took a breath and bit her lip again as her hands tugged at the button-fly, then the zipper. Next to my ear, the metal teeth were musical as she brought the zipper down. My cock started to swell. She paused, but when she saw the look on my face change, she started into my eyes and then began to slide the denim over her hips, wiggling as she did so. Her thumbs shimmied the jeans to her knees, leaving her black cotton boybriefs in place.

She gasped when my arm suddenly coiled around her waist as I pulled her off her feet and across me. The tips of her boots scraped against the floor. She cried out.

“Waitwaitwait… all I did was kiss him… I swear I swear…”

Tightening my other arm around her waist, I settled her against me firmly. She squirmed, and started to kick.

“Knock it off,” I demanded. She didn’t stop. “Hey,” I roared, my voice echoing sharply in the storage room, “do you want the fucking cane?”

She froze, my right arm still coiled around her. I barely heard her sniffle. My cock had already started throbbing by now, and I could feel it poking at my own jeans and into her ribs. I’m sure she felt it too.

The harsh light blazed downward on her ass, framed perfectly between my arm and the crumpled mass of denim around her knees. Now that she was finally behaving herself, I took my time to appreciate the way her cheeks filled the briefs, how the rubber waistband tightened around her and left small reddened lines in her soft, but still cold, skin. I gave her a few playful pats, smacking each cheek together, and wiggled a finger or two between them, pressing the cotton between. She started to relax more and became quiet.

Sliding my fingertips downward, I filled her hollow with the cotton until each asscheek was easily defined. When my fingers delved between her thighs, I instantly felt the sodden material there, how her excitement was already soaking into the briefs. In sharp contrast to her shivering skin, her core was far more than warm. My little slut was in heat.

She was breathing steadily, resting her weight on me now. Thunder clapped outside and a fresh assault of rainwater could be heard coming in sheets in the alley, battering upon the aluminum door. I reached a finger under one leg hole of the boy briefs she wore, and gently scratched her skin along the top of her thigh. She squirmed.

Slowly, swaying her hips gently side to side, I pulled the briefs down, gradually revealing her bottom to me. Her skin responded in faint waves, her delightful ass firm and broad. The briefs formed a small canopy over her skin until they were completely tugged down and off, joining the jeans around her knees.

She was fully revealed now, and beads of sweat began to form on her power back, droplets clinging to the tiniest peachfuzz hairs that grew there sexily. She groaned quietly, resigned to her fate. I took one last moment of sublime appreciation of her form, her shape, before it was my turn to take a deep breath. In that moment, it seemed the rain had stopped for a respite as well.

The first strike was firm, but not at all vicious, but it didn’t prevent her from raising her head in momentary shock. The second and the third kept pace with the first, and as I slowly increased pressure and speed, I felt her tense slightly. Her hands pressed to the damp concrete as she tried to keep balance. She started to whimper at each strike.

I stopped briefly to enjoy the first shades of pink on her skin. I caressed her flesh lovingly now, squeezing her ass between strokes. Her squirming changed rhythm, and her thighs parted more. I didn’t give her much opportunity to enjoy the breather for long.

In tandem with another clap of thunder, I began raining my hand on her ass now, the harsher smacks echoing in the room like clapping hands. Her head jolted up, and I sensed more than saw that her eyes had widened open, staring at the crates and chemical drums in front of her, as she felt a proper assault on her behind. As I continued, my arm coiled tighter around her waist, holding her firmly, my smacking hand cupping slightly as I brought it heavily across both of her cheeks, then one, back to both, then the other. I didn’t bother counting the blows, but I smirked to myself the naked bulb revealed the growing, angry shades of red on her skin.

She was crying out loudly now, and I was pleased to remember that at this hour of the morning, with the local clubs nearby still hammering out loud music, no one could possibly hear her cries. She yelped with each blow, and while I still could have struck much harder, I secretly enjoyed the whimpering pleas that she responded with.

“Stop, stop, please…”

This wasn’t her word.

“No, no, seriously… stop, please, I’ll suck your cock if you stop…”

I laughed to myself. “You’ll suck it anyway, just because it gives me such entitled pleasure. Shuttup.” Playfully aggravated, I responded with a series of rapid, heavier blows concentrated on her right cheek, savaging her as she arched her back and screamed through a half-dozen smacks. Then I stopped suddenly.

She was shaking. She fought to catch her breath. Her ass was brazenly red.

I reached my hand into the air behind my shoulder, where droplets of water were casually falling from the ceiling to the floor. Dampened, I brought my hand to her bottom and caressed her slowly, cooling her down. She sighed gratefully. I pulled my other arm from around her, and leaned back in the chair as she stayed across my lap.

Holding her ass in my hands, I parted her, feeling the stinging heat of her skin, and my hand warmed from the assault. I sighed appreciatively as her tight rosebud revealed itself, the soft and crinkled skin clenching as she slowly gyrated involuntarily.

Too tempting, I decided. But that would wait. I tugged her briefs back up and unceremoniously slid her to her haunches on the cold floor. I stood up.

She looked into my eyes, and then to my crotch as I adjusted myself. I’m sure she was asking herself if I was about to unzip and pull her face toward my throbbing cock. I’d done that to her before.

I smiled, my hands pausing at my waist. “Get up,” I finally said. “And do your pants.”

Like a shamed playtoy whose use was momentarily unrequired, her shoulders sunk as she redid her button-fly before struggling to stand.

I could see the dawn just starting to creep under the door. We looked at each other, sharing a smile. The energy shifted. She sat down on the chair without being instructed to, or asking for permission. I knew the play had ended then, despite the change in what was usual for our little ritual. I chalked it up to a long night of drinking, dancing, this little tryst, her being tired. I inwardly shrugged to myself. There was a pause.

“Rain’s stopped,” I said. “You tired? I’ll get the car.”

She nodded silently. I blew her a kiss. She smiled. I paused another moment before heading out the door and through the alley. The car was a few blocks away. I thought about how I loved her, and how much fun she is.







She reached in her pocket, withdrew the pack, and lit a cigarette. Taking a deep drag, she thought to herself pensively, waiting. Moments later, the aluminum door reopened.

“Wow,” he said. “I thought that guy’d never leave.”

Her eyes beamed when he entered. “It’ll be ok. His car is blocks away. I knew he’d want to talk here… he’s so predictable. But did you forget to say something?”

The blond boy blinked, and stammered. “Um… I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I mean, I thought he’d never leave… ma’am.”

“Good boy. Did you bring everything I told you to?”

“Yes, ma’am… your bag’s in my truck, ma’am.”

She stomped the cigarette out with her boot. “Good boy. We’ll hit the bank before the interstate, then. Now let’s go.”

He stammered again, then reached for the door and held it open for her. She was so lovely, so enchanting, so very much in control. Ever since he met her, he knew how she saw directly into his soul, into his need to be possessed. He idolized her. His training was still new, but he knew what to say next as they prepared to leave the room. He remembered.

“How else might this boy be of service to you?”

She chuckled as looked around, confirming nothing was being left behind. “Just get going, or I might pull you over my knee and spank your little ass, boy. I’d do that just because it gives me such entitled pleasure.”

A gust of morning wind forced the lone bulb to sway again as the door slammed shut.



copyright 2007. For Shayne.